


Of a Demon in My View

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Community: femslashficlets, Demon Bela Talbot, Depression, F/F, Falling In Love, Favorite, Healing, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Romance, Stitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 07:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17504582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: Bela is Abaddon’sfavorite.





	Of a Demon in My View

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Immersed in Red](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1663388) by [Taste_of_Suburbia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia). 



> Written for femslashficlets #193 prompt ‘favorite.’ 
> 
> This is sort of tied to my other piece ‘Immersed in Red,’ but you don’t have to read that to understand this. 
> 
> Title and italic verses below taken from Edgar Allen Poe’s poem ‘Alone.’ 
> 
> Other italics taken from Neil Diamond’s song ‘Girl You’ll Be a Woman Soon.’

 

Bela had been Abaddon’s very  _first_ choice. There had been others yes, other demons personally handpicked by the Knight of Hell herself soon to become  _Queen_ , demons who peered through Bela’s vulnerability and regret and inexperience, her  _humanness_ and tried to break her, to twist her into becoming just like them. Bela didn’t want to be them. She didn’t want to be Abaddon’s pet either, her  _favorite,_ but Abaddon never made her go down on her knees, never made Bela plead. 

No, instead she had brought Bela to Earth with her, but not before giving her one very simple choice: Bela could have her own body back, scarred and rotting and  _wretched_ it was, or she could claim someone else alive, dying or dead. 

In hell she was nothing but a squirming soul, no shape to her, no way to fit _against_ Abaddon. 

Bela, foolishly, chose what she had left behind.

Abaddon enjoyed the flaws. She ran her fingers over Bela’s multitude of scars, sometimes pressing too hard but knowing Bela liked it, well aware it made Bela feel  _human_ again. She didn’t mind that Bela felt like a zombie and looked the part even more so: stitches crisscrossing her neck and arms, itching at the back of her ankles and chafing at her wrists. Abaddon hadn’t played any games with her face though, no, it had been lovingly restored, bright eyes and pleasing smirk and delicate nose. 

And sometimes Bela would feel like Abaddon’s pet or her doll, a demon that the red-head was trying to make  _human_ again. 

And sometimes Bela really would go down on her knees until Abaddon yanked her back up again. “Honey, I don’t want your gratitude. I just want little old you.”

Except that Bela couldn’t remember how she  _had_ been, she didn’t know what Abaddon wanted and it was enough to make her choke and gag and tear at her stitches until they could never heal. She didn’t want to be this broken little thing that curled up at the back of dark closets and followed Abaddon around always wracking her brain for something  _smart_ to say.  _Do something do something do something…_

_Girl, you’ll be a woman soon, I love you so much, can’t count all the ways… what they’re saying girl it cuts like a knife…_

The song bursts into her consciousness, slicing through her uncertainty before stuttering back out again. She walks through the crowd, feeling as if she is wading through murky water. Is she supposed to connect to this world again, is she meant to guide Abaddon through it?

Abaddon dresses her in the dark, reminds her that she doesn’t have to eat but that it just feels like it. She cranks up the radio too loud in their flashy stolen car and wears too much red lipstick and never treats Bela as if she annoys her, just that exasperated expression and slow, sinful smile and teeth that blind Bela. With Abaddon, she doesn’t feel so much as if she’s slipping into oblivion. There is always that tether, always the next song, the next mission, the next stitch.

And Bela closes her eyes and breathes, melting into her tight skin, sliding through the humans as if she is slipping right through them.

_I could not bring_

_My passions from a common spring—_

_From the same source I have not taken_

Abaddon laughs, sharp, at how no one knows what she is capable of and she laughs too at the little things, at bumper stickers and fruity drinks and Bela running oh so fast in her dreams to places she will never reach, far away from memories she is still drowning in.

_My sorrow—I could not awaken_

_My heart to joy at the same tone—_

And Abaddon follows her no matter how deep she goes, she rips her memories limb from limb until Bela can remember how her parents screamed and how she sounds just like them and how there was never enough blood and how there never could be enough blood to drown Bela until she’s past going going going and just  _gone._

_Don’t let them make up your mind … Please, come take my hand … I’ve been misunderstood for all of my life…_

Abaddon  _slaughters_ every one of Bela’s nightmares and there is no oblivion, no hard packed icy dirt to crawl under and no way to be rid of her  _sin._

There is a sharp, curving smile in the dark and neon red red red eyes and Bela knows what she’s doing knows what she’s doing doesn’t want to die…

Bela takes a deep breath and dives. Into Abaddon. Into new  _life._

**FIN**

 


End file.
